


In Your Hands

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Smallville
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Redemption, Romance, Unfinished, open-ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-11-28 11:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Begins during episode 5x12, "Reckoning."  After losing the Senate race, Lex makes the choice to take his dream from Christmas into closer consideration and try to redeem himself.  Lana sees the change in him and starts to admit to herself that she loves him, but she never could have guessed how quickly they would go from friendship to cohabitation and surrender to an obsessive romance that feels somehow so right and safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my precious Lexanas! I'm not sure how many of us are still out here, but guess what, I'm rewatching Smallville and my feels are so uncontrollable that I had to put them somewhere. I'm expecting the smut and fluff to draw on Lana's enjoyment of Lex's dominant tendencies, so more tags will probably be added to future chapters. ;) Most importantly, I'm planning to give these two the happy ending they deserve!

The familiar amber burn of the whiskey ought to be warm, but it was nothing but a cold comfort as Lex ironically clinked his glass to a second one intended for a nonexistent friend who actually cared how he felt after losing the Senatorial election. Maybe he’d been asking for this, he considered as he took another disappointing sip of liquid cowardice. Maybe the Senate bid had been about him looking for one more piece of damning evidence that nobody was going to change their minds about his corrupt nature. 

How moronic, running against Jonathan Kent, paragon of homespun goodness, as if that could do anything but miserably remind him that it wasn’t what he wanted, like rubbing a wound raw with sandpaper. Lex didn’t want to best Jonathan; he wanted the man’s approval, his _paternal_ approval, and it was as embarrassing as it was impossible. Defeating Jonathan Kent wouldn't have proven a damn thing, except reestablishing himself as a man who would go to any sleazy length for power and glory. After all, Lex had used underhanded means throughout the election, and he now believed the people would have felt his insincere pomposity and grown to hate him, as most people always eventually seemed to do. There was something _wrong_ about Lex, and everyone at some point scented it out and recoiled, even if they didn't see it at first under his smooth charm and the long reach of his wealth. He’d never felt quite so excruciatingly orphaned, even from his own common sense, but as much as he hated failure and he hated humiliation, since Christmas Lex had come to hate exactly one thing just a little bit more than either: the filthy sting of his own self-hatred. God, there had to be some way to escape it.

Lana came in soundlessly but he felt the brush of her soft coat and scarf against the doorframe before he saw her, or maybe he could picture it all too easily, the image drifting to him along with the wafting fantasy of her cherry blossom perfume, but she was real. She was forever so terrifyingly close and far at the same damn time. It was enough to drive the sanest man mad with love-addled fever.

“I thought I should come and see how you were,” she ventured shyly, and he knew that her eyes would be so beautiful that he would fall into them and get lost again. It was the only place that felt good anymore, and honestly it was so good that he didn’t even mind the aftertaste of pain she left behind on her way back to Clark.

Lex considered briefly, before he spoke. Normally he’d probably spew some self-indulgent “poor pitiful me” babble, but he was exhausted with that, too. He didn’t know why, whether it was the sad emptiness of defeat, plus the realization he didn’t care nearly as much about losing that Senate seat as he’d deluded himself he did, like it was some fix-all that would cut off the bleed of his hemorrhaging character flaws that kept driving the people he cared for away--

Everyone except Lionel, who liked to watch and gloat, relishing the sight of his son’s predictable, pathetic failures.

And everyone except Lana, who for some unknowable reason still cared about Lex.

He thought about the Christmas dream now, for the same unknowable reason, shrouded in delicious mystery, more tantalizing and true than any other paradox he’d faced. He didn’t want to force this mystery open...he wanted to let it open him. It was a bizarre feeling but somehow he had to hold onto it if he had any hope of actually living a decent life. It meant something, didn’t it, to live a decent life, to be decent; that was why he’d admired Clark, aspired to Jonathan’s approval, hated his own father. Lex did not understand goodness and if he was going to be honest he had to admit he didn’t know if he had any of it inside him, but he had Lana inside, deep in his heart. 

And she was here.

“I’m okay,” he assured her, replacing any lame speech about how he should have won and no one appreciated him, with a shrug. Not really wanting to get any drunker, he eschewed the remainder of his duly scheduled pity party and slid the glass away across the desk.

He turned to face her, but paused, struck by the melancholy setting her face in shadows despite the loving glow of autumn flames flickering over her gorgeous features from the crackling fireplace beside them. 

“Lana, what’s wrong?” he asked, stepping easily into her personal space, examining her in concern. “I would have thought you’d rather be at the party.”

“I was kind of looking for an excuse to get out of there, get some air,” she admitted with that whimsical little confused laugh of hers that wreaked havoc on his composure. Pressing her lips together, she seemed to consider what else to add before continuing shakily, “Clark and I had our last fight tonight.”

“Your last fight, huh?” His tone was warm and gentle, again showing him sides of himself which only Lana could seem to bring out. 

“I can’t stand the lies anymore, Lex, I mean, God! How do you do that? How do you lie to someone you love?”

“Hmm,” he mused, giving her a softly playful smile in an attempt to take the edge off her sadness. “I wish I could say I wouldn’t. But I can tell you this, Lana: I don’t want to do it anymore. I see the toll it takes, I feel it in my own life, but listen…” 

_What would a good person say? Fake it till you make it, Luthor._

“This isn’t about me,” he blurted. Huh, that sounded pretty fucking good. It shouldn’t be about him, should it? Not everything had to be. That was a goddamned heady thought. He needed to sit down. But Lana held him tight to her gravity without trying.

“Lana, I know how much Clark meant to you, how much you…” _Don’t vomit in your mouth, Lex._ “Loved him, and how you must be hurting right now, so...please just know I’m here, okay, whatever you need. Just tell me. What would be good?” 

What did normal people do when they were upset? Surely not drink a bottle of whiskey or find someone to blackmail, or indulge a mindless one night stand, no… _Tea_? Maybe he could learn to speak this language after all!

“Some tea? Maybe something to eat?” He asked, daring only to press his palm to the wet place on one of her cheeks.

Lana looked at him completely baffled for a second, then huffed a surprised laugh. “Well, sure, Lex, that would actually be perfect. Thank you.”

Still more amused, Lex crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Are you about twenty percent disappointed that I didn’t respond to this break-up news by immediately ripping your clothes off?”

Lana’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he thought he had really blown it, but then her eyes sparkled and she threw her head back and laughed heartily, almost hysterically, for ages. Before he knew it, Lex was laughing too and they were each holding their own aching stomachs with the force of it, new water glazing Lana’s eyes that was at least half uproarious amusement, half still-sinking-in heartbreak.

“I cannot believe you said that,” she gasped, almost tumbling for him as if she were the slightly tipsy one.

“Oh please, we were both thinking it,” he retorted, and they kept on laughing, until she faux-elbowed his side and he resisted the urge to grab her arm quite firmly. 

“You’re the worst,” she giggled, her pretty slender fingers resting on his biceps as she leaned slightly into him for support. 

“I know,” he admitted, pulling her into a hug, keeping his hands chastely pressed to her back despite the almost overpowering urge to touch and taste her every-damn-where. Christ, the sound of her honest, free, whole-hearted laugh, the flash of those sweet little perfect pearl fangs between her sumptuous lips...he just wanted to consume her and live off everything she said or did or thought until all of his sadness was smothered in her sugar. 

_I’m the worst_, he thought objectively as she nuzzled into his chest with a contented sigh, _but I love you the most, Lana Lang_.


	2. Chapter 2

Lana’s neck felt stiff when she woke up the next morning, and then she realized her cheek was still pressed to firmly warm male muscle under a soft blue sweater and nearly jolted upright. It was the steady beat of Lex’s heart under her ear that kept her still and calm, and she decided that she could steal a few minutes to enjoy this closeness between them, and _then_ panic.

After sharing a whole bunch of those yummy, fancy tea sandwiches that always seemed to be in the fridge here, and confiding cringe-inducing stories of their past relationships, talking and laughing for hours, they’d fallen asleep curled up together on the couch, without announcing the slightest intention for her to stay overnight or for their bodies to interlock; it just _happened_

She inhaled his rich, spicy cologne and rubbed her face deeper against him until he stirred slightly, not waking yet but instinctively tightening his strong arms around her. Maybe it was this damn sweater that made her go a little nuts last night and end up here instead of at home crying into her pillow over Clark. Usually, Lex favored exquisitely tailored dark button-up shirts and black trousers, a highly flattering look on his beguiling physique, and one that left her with no complaints. But this sweater was the very same shade of ice blue as his eyes, and it was so casual that it seemed to reflect Lex at his most unguarded, a Lex she could truly get to know. 

_It might be time to stop kidding yourself about why you keep showing up here,_ she chided internally to no avail. Yes, she was well-aware that she had an inappropriate, long-smoldering, very overwhelming crush on one Lex Luthor, emotionally unavailable, manipulative, power-hungry billionaire. He could floor her with just one incisive gaze, one of those vulnerable half-smiles of his, or hell, even those arrogant smirks; his body hovering near her, the heat and strength of him always silently inviting...he was, in his own, forbidden way, absolutely perfect.__

_ _But she had been so sure she was in love with Clark that she’d never been able to put a name on the connection she had formed with Lex, a bond she’d slipped into as easily as she’d fallen into Lex’s ready embrace the night before. She wasn’t in high school anymore and she wasn’t even dating Clark anymore, but she still didn’t know if she was ready to face this. It was a terrible idea to spark a romance with Lex; she didn’t want to be with anyone so controlling and selfish, but she’d seen another side to him and it left her wondering what else he had to show her that might prove a sweet surprise. _ _

_ _It felt dizzyingly exciting, too, to be the only one who could get through to his human side, but that couldn’t be healthy, right? To let him fixate on her like that? Still, it felt...amazing. To be so irreplaceably special and important to him. Being with Lex felt so easy and natural, no hoops to jump through, no paranoid sense that he was holding himself back from her for some unknown reason; it was nothing like her relationship with Clark._ _

_ _Maybe Lana was growing up, maybe her needs and wants were changing, but she was still perplexed and intimidated by her conflicting emotions and desires, too much so to really decide about Lex right now._ _

_ _The door to the study opened with a harsh wrench, and Lana sat up woozily as Lex did the same, roused by the noise of someone intruding on their mutual solace. _ _

_ _Lionel Luthor strode into his son’s space with his usual attitude of amused disdain and ownership, twisting Lana’s stomach with the notion of how Lex must have felt being raised by such a cruel, discomforting man. _ _

_ _“Well, well, well,” Lionel snarked, stopping short at the sight of them. “Good morning, Lex. Miss Lang.”_ _

_ _ _It’s too damn early for me to deal with this, Lana thought._ _ _

_ _“Dad, do you ever, I don’t know, _knock_?” Lex asked, annoyed and sexy as hell. _ _

_ _“Good morning, Mr. Luthor,” Lana managed with a distant smile. Lex briefly clasped and squeezed her hand in reassurance._ _

_ _“I’m so sorry to interrupt your charming interlude, but I’ve just heard some awful news and I wanted to make sure you heard about it right away, from me, rather than from some uncaring stranger.”_ _

_ _Lex groaned, stood up and stretched. “Because the last thing you are is uncaring or strange.”_ _

_ _Lana picked up her phone with a yawn and started to worry when she saw the string of texts from Chloe and Lois, telling her to call them ASAP. Finally, she was interested in what Lionel Luthor had to say._ _

_ _“What is it, Mr. Luthor?” she asked as a premonition of dread went through her in a cold shiver. Lex’s gaze flicked back to her in concern._ _

_ _“Jonathan Kent had a heart attack last night at the farm,” Lionel announced, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from tweaking up in a repulsive show of pleasure in the news. “I’m so sorry to tell you both this, but he passed away.”_ _

_ _“Oh my God,” Lana breathed in horror, leaping up and grabbing her bag, struggling to believe this could be true. Mr. Kent won the election, he had been on top of the world last night; how could this have possibly happened? And Clark, poor Clark, he must be devastated--_ _

_ _“Clark,” she blurted, looking to Lex in desperation, “I’ve got to get to Clark.”_ _

_ _“Of course,” he nodded, wide-eyed and solemn, still processing the shock himself. And both of them were entirely ignoring Lionel. “Come with me.”_ _

_ _

_ _“I broke up with Clark yesterday and then his father died,” Lana sighed dejectedly as Lex drove them to the Kent farm. She stared blankly at the cornfields rolling by outside the window as her heart thudded in painful guilt, every beat a stabbing reminder that she’d broken Clark’s._ _

_ _“He lost us both in the same day, Lex,” she added as tears spilled from her eyes._ _

_ _Lex tightened his grip on the steering wheel, glancing at her almost reprovingly. “Now I understand how that must make you feel, Lana but please save yourself a lot of unnecessary despair and look at the situation honestly. You know it’s not your fault.”_ _

_ _Maybe she needed this from him now, the solid, nonnegotiable assurance of firm common sense. The way Lex tended to assume he knew best and everyone else would benefit by following his sage advice. There was something soothing about it at a moment like this, however obnoxious he could be at other times._ _

_ _“Thanks, Lex, but it really, really feels like it’s my fault.”_ _

_ _He shrugged, brow furrowed in ominous expectation and the weight of his own unwanted presence at the Kent farm as he pulled into the drive. _ _

_ _“You couldn’t possibly have known what was going to happen, Lana.” He parked and took her hand in his, stroking over her fingers slowly. His grip on her, as always, was anchoring. “You did the best you could with what information you had at the time, and honestly...no one could doubt you want the best for Clark and wish him every possible happiness, even if you couldn’t be there to give it to him. I know you can still be there for him.”_ _

_ _“Thanks, Lex.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, feeling it heat up under the brief, soft brush of her lips on his skin. “Are you coming in?”_ _

_ _He let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t think anyone in there really wants to see me right now.”_ _

_ _Lana watched him in momentary disbelief that he wasn’t going to swagger into the Kent house under the auspices of being the most understanding and sympathetic rejected best friend Clark ever had, and offer to fund a showy, expensive memorial service that Jonathan would have hated. He must have seen the play of confusion and sympathy battling in her features, because he chuckled quietly._ _

_ _“It’s okay, Lana; we both know it’s true. Maybe for once I should try doing the sensitive thing. I’m kind of interested to see how it feels, you know?” _ _

_ _“How what feels?” she asked, endlessly curious._ _

_ _“Just...being good,” he posited, his fingers flexing nervously over his thighs, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve tried everything else, haven’t I? It didn’t get me anywhere but alone and miserable.”_ _

_ _Lana stared at him slightly aghast and wondering if he’d lost his mind or come to his senses. She almost wanted to wave a hand in front of his eyes or ask him how many fingers she was holding up to make sure he wasn’t in some kind of weird meteor rock trance or something. In Smallville, there was always more than a distinct chance of that, but he looked so heartrendingly _sincere_ that she couldn’t figure out what to do with the surge of affection it brought out in her. _ _

_ _“I’m fine, Lana. Circumstances have just led me to confront the more unsavory truths about my past behavior, and if possible...I’d like to make some positive changes in my life, with the rather bold ambition of _redemption_. Yes, it defies believe, but I’m aware that I’ve done some things for which I should seek to be redeemed. But...shhhh...don’t tell anyone, okay?” A press of his finger to his lips, then a wry smile; God he was handsome, and it should be the last thing she was thinking about right now, but at the moment it was simply too startling to ignore, not as her feelings ran rampant, stampeding through her sore, overused heart that had only ever been longing to be fully loved and understood by someone she cared for this much. _ _

_ _Did she...had she started, without even realizing it, caring more about Lex than she did for Clark? Somehow it seemed upsettingly true, but when had this happened? As Clark began to withdraw from her physical affections, embarrassing her and making her feel so rejected and unwanted, as he kept piling secrets upon evasions until she couldn’t bring herself to keep trying to make it work between them? Or had this emotion, which she was way too scared right now to call ‘love’, started a lot earlier than that, remaining smothered by her sense of it being both wrong and hugely problematic?_ _

_ _Why the hell was she thinking about this right now, how selfish could she possibly be? Lana felt horrible about it, but she knew from plenty of past experience that death had an unfailing ability to make you want to seize life right now and live it to the fullest._ _

_ _Lex made her feel so many things, but more than anything else he made her feel vitally, powerfully alive, an exuberant sensation even when it was a guilty pleasure, even when he was at his worst and they were verbally sparring, urged on by unspoken desires that darkened every barbed retort or frustrated accusation. When they were actually getting along, it was even more intense, unfettered by the impediments they placed between them out of convenience or fear._ _

_ _ _“Let me not to the marriage of true minds / admit impediments…”_ _ _

_ _The lines of her favorite Shakespeare sonnet came drifting over Lana’s consciousness and she returned Lex’s smile. Perhaps with him she always had felt it: a meeting of two minds capable of understanding each other as fully as two separate people ever could, of being as close as they would let themselves get._ _

_ _“Lex, I’m proud of you,” she smiled warmly, and he gave her this sheepish little grin like he couldn’t quite hide how much her encouragement meant to him._ _

_ _“Then that’s reason enough for me to stay the course,” he told her, an undeniable intimacy sneaking into his tone as if of its own volition. She liked to think of him losing control of himself over her, just as much as she liked to think of him trying to be good for her._ _

_ _“Lana?” Chloe called out, emerging from the front door looking, even from this distance, both worried and alarmed. _ _

_ _“I’d better get going,” Lex said, reaching across Lana to open her door. “Call me if you need anything at all, alright? Don’t hesitate. If you want me to come and get you later, I will. I know how hard this day is gonna be for you, specifically because you are so unceasingly kind.”_ _

_ _Come and...get her later? Why would she need...oh, it didn’t matter right now, there was Chloe to explain herself to, and then Clark to comfort, and Martha...fresh tears stung her eyes as she got out and ran to her blonde friend, and Lex drove off leaving her with an insulation of warmth and understanding to soothe the dreadfulness of the day._ _

She spent that entire day wrapped in the quiet devastation which had taken over the Kents, Clark not even vaguely resentful but only deeply grateful for her presence and caring; Lana collaborating with Lois and Chloe to help out as much as possible, making the wake and funeral arrangements under Martha’s agonized but certain direction of what Jonathan would have liked.

A few days elapsed before the funeral, and Lana stood beside Clark, held his big, trembling hand as he stared down at the snow-speckled casket and prepared to say his final goodbye to his father. But then she sensed he needed to be alone and she gently released him, tucking her hands in her coat pockets and heading towards her friends, slipping her arms through theirs as she noticed someone standing at the distant periphery of the dreary scene, someone so quiet as to make himself nearly invisible. Lois babbled on about a casserole she’d made for the gathering back at the farm, a meal she thought was maybe not too burned to be palatable, and Lana knew that going off on a tangent like that was just Lois’ endearing way of dealing with the grief they all felt. But she and Chloe were far too concerned with planning the next part of the day to notice what Lana did: Lex Luthor, lingering on the sidelines in silent resignation to being an affectionate but unwanted guest in a place where he didn’t belong.

She smiled at him, and he just nodded, watching her thoughtfully until she was out of view.

After staying at the farm for three hours worth of nostalgic reminiscing with quiet, sad relatives and friends, and endeavoring to make sure the house was as clean as could be and the food properly stored with the helpful reminder that Martha wouldn’t have to cook for the rest of the week, and yes, after she’d had to throw out the entire casserole pan which held Lois’s blackened concoction because the “food” was actually attached to the pan, Lana was bone-tired, emotionally and physically. 

She went out to the porch to take in a few gusts of steadying, freezing air as if to sober her from the temptation which had overtaken her senses somewhere between wrapping eight casseroles in plastic and wiping down the counters. But, with all the insanely perverse inclinations of grief-riddled desire, she couldn’t fight off the urge. She took out her phone and reconsidered Lex’s words: “Call me if you want me to come and get you later.”

Not if she wanted him to send the driver to pick her up, not if there was something he could send her, no; he offered of himself and she wanted that, wanted him, his voice and his smile, his sadness and restraint, the tension underneath that personified him with such beautiful, often terrible eloquence. She didn’t want to be alone, and she never was when she was with him.

She called to ask Lex to take her away with him, and he said he could be there in twenty minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Lex probably couldn’t have provided a decent explanation for how and when exactly Lana had moved in with him, except that it seemed to happen gradually and very quickly at the same time. 

That first night, he’d picked her up from the Kent farm and brought her back to the mansion, little suspecting she had come home to stay. She’d told him all about her sad, heavy day and he’d listened, then did all he could to cheer her, hoping to remind her how much she still deserved happiness. He showed her his personal computer for the very first time, the latest clues he’d collected about the possible whereabouts of their spaceship.

“I mean, I know it isn’t…_our_ spaceship,” Lana laughed, sitting at his desk as he leaned over her, so fucking tempted to kiss and bite at her lovely, swan-like neck that he was giddy with the need. 

“I’ve always thought of it that way myself, Lana.” 

His affirmation pleased her, as did the trust he showed her by letting her a little bit more into his world, his confidence. He certainly wasn’t planning on giving her the passwords to his encrypted files or confessing to some of his more -- well, if not ethically questionable, certainly _unconventional_ experimental projects with living test subjects, but hey. It was a start, it was him opening up for her, just one more layer every day until he got to the point where neither of them wanted him to go further. He just kind of assumed there would be a limit to her patience with him; past precedent in relationships had shown it to be an inevitability. But he was damn sure going to put his whole heart into loving her anyway...not that he had a choice.

Then he tried to cultivate her appreciation for fine whiskey, but she wasn’t having it.

“Lex, this is horrible,” she winced, curling her lips and setting the glass aside. “How can you stand that stuff? It _burns_.”

“Well, some of the best things in life involve a potent combination of pain and pleasure,” he teased, enjoying the crimson flush that overtook her face. 

“Don’t you ever want to drink something _nice_, like I-don’t-know, a white zinfandel?” She spoke as if this was perfectly reasonable, with the inexperienced palate of a college freshman, and he was unspeakably aroused by thoughts of educating her, shaping her experiences and delights with his own hands and so much more.

“Now it’s my turn to cringe,” he laughed, sitting down beside her on the couch. “I’d ask how you can stand drinking _that_, but then again, it isn’t surprising. After all, it’s sweet, just like…”

“Just like me?” Lana looked at him very dubiously, challenging him just like he wanted her to. It was delicious, her ability to stand up to him; no one else did it and maintained his respect. “That’s a little cheesy, even for you, Lex.”

Lex smiled a bit smugly and swept her hair back from her face, tucking the loose tresses behind her ears with slow caresses that had her biting her lip, unable to take her stunning brown eyes off of him. “There’s a lot more to me than cheesy lines, Lana.”

“Prove it,” she smirked, and he did, leaning in to kiss one corner of her mouth, then stopping, waiting.

Everything else seemed to fall away except for the press of their lips -- the ground beneath them, the reasons why he shouldn’t dare kiss her, the offense she ought to take to it. Everything was replaced by a feeling of perfect rightness, yet somehow this overwhelming, baffling excitement; he had never felt this before, on fire and alive and _happy_, God! So happy; this could never last.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, looking up at her with adoration and excitement written all over his face.

He had more than half-thought she would tell him to stop, and he’d been slightly afraid she might even push him away. She’d just broken up with Clark, and after what happened with Jonathan Kent, but...he knew about funerals, how they made you hungry and lusty and needy. Maybe he shouldn’t use that to his advantage...unless she wanted him to, of course. 

Lana nodded, taking his face in her hands and placing several feathery kisses on his lips, leaving behind a thin imprint of her strawberry lip gloss, which he licked, looking into her eyes with riotous craving.

“Come here,” he sighed, lifting her onto his lap so that she straddled him, starting to clutch at his head as he drove his fingers into her hair, tangling and tugging, evoking a moan from her sweetly delectable lips as their kiss deepened.

Her _mouth_...it was so much better than he’d thought even in his most brazenly delirious fantasies...her kisses were almost forceful in their passion, earnest in their fixated exploration, still innocent in so many ways, still learning ways to taste and feel. He wanted to be the last teacher she ever needed.

Lex kept one hand on her back, holding her firmly in place as she tipped her head back and he lavished his mouth along the satiny skin of her neck, living and dying over and over at the sound of every gasp and cry he drew from her. 

“Lex,” she whimpered as he dragged his hand from the perfect curve of her stomach up to her breast and cupped tentatively, his fingertips grazing her skull, just short of letting her feel how possessive he could be. Then he knew he had to stop, for now at least. She would regret it if they went too far tonight, and he never wanted her to experience a single moment’s regret at the memory of how he handled her and provoked her sharpest ecstasies. 

“I think I need to stop,” he admitted, voice ragged, fingers pulled back from her only with the greatest effort and a near-convulsion of sadness at the abrupt loss of contact. “Or I won’t be able to.”

“You’re right.” She heaved a sigh, then laughed self-consciously. “Wow, that was…”

“Unexpected?” he asked, arching a brow.

“No, it was...something I’ve thought about doing for a while now, Lex. But I didn’t know it was going to feel like _that_.”

“Like what?” he inquired, distinctly aware that he had been hard from the second he tasted her mouth, and that if she rocked her hips into him even just a bit right now, she would feel him grow more so beneath her.

“Ask me again tomorrow.” She grinned mischievously, letting the weight of days worth of melancholy roll off of her. “I think if I tell you now, the results will be very predictable.”

“Fair enough. Do you want to stay the night?” He put up his hands with a faux-angelic look. “Hey, my intentions are entirely honorable here, Ms. Lang. I have a lovely guest room to which you are more than welcome.”

“You.” She put a finger in the middle of his chest, slipping between his shirt buttons to prod his bare skin, making him harder as he sucked in a breath. “Entirely honorable?”

“I didn’t say my thoughts were entirely honorable, Lana; I just offered you a room. And a pair of pajamas, of course. Kind of late for you to be sneaking back into the dorm, isn’t it?”

So she slept that night in the best, most lavish guest room in the mansion, 500 thread count, Italian milled percale sheets and a fluffy pink duvet, an enormous flat screen tv and an adjoining bathroom as big as the one in the master bedroom. He tossed and turned for hours imagining her naked but for the navy blue cotton pajama top she’d borrowed from him, which would be adorably baggy on her petite, pert, tight little body…

Heaving a wet sigh into the pillow, he fell victim to the most lascivious of dreams. He woke grinding hard and savage into the softness of the bed, imagining it was Lana until he burst with a guttural moan.

He couldn’t remember a time over the last few years when he hadn’t loved her, tucking the feeling deep into his heart because of their age difference, reminding himself to focus his affections on someone appropriate, but that had been folly, laughable. There was no one else for him; she was all he saw by now, and it was only getting more intense with time. It felt like every intake of breath to his lungs was only put there by the generous grace of the sparkle in her dark, incisive eyes, the daring sweep of her velvety voice, the lustrous sheen in her hair and, insanely, the knife she twisted in his heart with every move she made, every word that escaped that naughty angel mouth. 

There was no announcement that she would be staying longer or even an invitation from him; it merely went from a hope to an assumption, finally a certainty. Lex had a talk with Lionel once his father returned from another round of shady business trips, the purpose of which he barely even wanted to know. Of course, Lex had private investigators working tirelessly on a daily basis to track his father’s actions because not knowing could prove deadly. At any rate, Lex imparted with venomous authority that his father was not allowed to sleep at the mansion anymore, and must cease coming and going from the family estate as he pleased. It only took a nice round of friendly blackmail to properly convince Lionel to seek new lodgings. That bastard wasn’t going to bother his precious Lana. With her, Lex was infinitely more protective than he’d ever been with himself, which made him notice the masochism he’d been manifesting for years, a factor of being his father’s victim which he was now able to shed, only due to her influence.


	4. Chapter 4

There were so many hidden nooks, crannies, hideaways and havens which Lana was getting to discover within the Luthor mansion, and she loved them all. She loved the purple stained glass lit through with warm sunshine over the familiar space of Lex’s library perhaps most of all, yes, but there were memories and secrets about him in every twisting corridor, every lavish chamber. He had lived a life here, mostly alone, especially when his father was around. With the same natural instinct that always seemed to tempt her closer to him, she intuited the sadness in the austere gallery of flawless, priceless art, the quick cutaway of his eyes when they passed what used to be a nursery, then a playroom, then his mother’s room. She didn’t want the life filling these halls and his heart to be a sad one anymore, not if she could change that. Maybe there was a way to fill these same cold halls once hallowed by mysterious despair with laughter and warmth.

One day, when she had been sleeping in the guest room for about a week, she grinningly challenged him to a game of hide and seek, and when he finally found her hidden in his bed, she giggled and kissed his mouth, asking why he had waited so long to check the most obvious place.

“Didn’t want to be presumptuous?” he suggested, hovering above her, pinning her wrists into the mattress because she was after all, his quarry and prey in this game. “Or maybe, I just didn’t want the game to be over too soon. I love to play with you, Lana.”

The unfiltered merriment in his eyes and smile took her breath away, just as the weight of his strong body pressing into her and the suggestive nature of his words made her weak, soft and wet.

“I’ve noticed, believe me,” she said with a more complicated laugh. Her skirt was hitched up to her thighs, but instead of feeling self-conscious, she just longed to know what he thought of that, what it made him want to do.

He gazed wonderingly into her eyes and played with her hair, just staying there on top of her, letting his hardness linger against the slickness which he must knew lay beneath her stockings and panties, but instead of taking it any further, he kissed her again and suggested they go down to lunch.

She loved the sweetly indulgent routine of their life together but she couldn’t figure out if he held out on seducing her out of teasing or not wanting to rush it, or being afraid of the depth of his feelings for her, or all three. At any rate, he had her right where he probably wanted her, whipped up into a lustful tizzy.

After lunch, Lex said he had some work to do, so Lana ran herself a bubble bath since she had a couple of hours to kill before her next class. She snuck her vibrator into the bathroom with her, giggling slyly to think what Lex might have already thought if he happened to look through her underwear drawer (she knew him too well to put such sneaky behavior past him). Well, if he was going to insist on keeping her waiting to feel all of him inside her, she was going to have to take measures like any smart girl would, to keep herself satisfied enough in the meantime. It would help her to enjoy the anticipation without exploding.

She sank into the hot, fragrant bubbles, letting the scent of hibiscus sooth her as the warmth of the water eased her tense body; then she lowered the waterproof sex toy beneath the surface and gently nudged it between her legs, first teasing, running the vibration along the seam of her slit, then moaning softly as she went further. Once she eased the tip of the vibrator inside herself, she sighed excitedly, immediately imagining it was Lex pushing into her as she increased the pressure, depth and tempo knowing this was exactly what he would do. Tweaking one of her nipples, she was just getting close, but then the door opened and she froze, her eyes sharp and wide on the sight of Lex standing there looking stunned.

“I heard you crying out...thought you might’ve gotten hurt,” he explained, and Lana realized her she was still eagerly squeezing her breast, hard pink nipple pinched between her fingers, her face probably wantonly greedy, the other hand clearly positioned between her thighs, although thankfully the vibrator was concealed by the dense froth of bubbles.

She was so embarrassed that words refused to come, so she shook her head, sinking under the water to her neck to conceal her breasts as she tried to subtly remove the vibrator’s head from her clenching heat and keep it hidden as well.

“Hey,” he sighed, dropping to his knees beside her, cupping her face and stroking it so soothingly, he was so _soothing_, so powerful in his ability to make her feel cared for and protected. 

She didn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears, so she did both, riddled by self-conscious shyness but deeply excited in a way she couldn’t quite acknowledge yet. “It’s just that…” She fumbled to find words to fit such a downright crazy moment.

“I know,” he smiled gently, “I’ve kept you waiting, Lana, because I was trying to respect your space and take my time, be a nice guy for once. But it wasn’t very nice of me to keep you waiting, now was it?”

She shrugged nervously, brushing back tears with a rueful grimace. “It’s fine, Lex, I’m just embarrassed--”

“Don’t be. You’re stunning.” He put his thumb between her lips and eased it inside, over her teeth, smoothing the pad of his strong finger over her tongue. Saliva gathered just as insistently in her mouth as the tension keyed up at her core, and Lex smiled again as she sucked his skin, her thighs relaxing, her hand going lax save for the fingers still wrapped around the vibrator.

“Now. May I?” he asked, placing his free hand on her knee and sliding it over her wet leg, up to her thigh.

She nodded, then laved her tongue more aggressively around his thumb and nibbled at him affectionately. Her cheeks were flushed, combined sheepishness, exhilaration and the inherent sense of danger at getting closer and closer, more entangled with Lex Luthor, all battled in her heart until -- insanely, wonderfully? -- she’d never been happier.

Lex’s brows knitted together in confusion as he brushed against her hand under the water and came into contact with the soft-coated silicone of the vibrator. “Oh, I see.” 

He bit his lip as if struggling to believe how deeply she aroused him, and then he took his thumb from her lips only to insert his index, middle and ring fingers, thrusting into her mouth as he switched the vibrator back on with a mature, experienced ease she found enthralling and intimidating.

He was so much more experienced than her, and from the rumors she’d heard...well, how was she to know she wasn’t just one more conquest, or that the feelings between them wouldn’t fade once he had what he wanted from whatever this unusual relationship actually was? But then his fingers left her mouth again to cup her face as he stared into her eyes and began to rub the vibrating pressure against her aching sex.

“That’s right,” he encouraged, his body strong and sure above her, his hand under the water gliding the vibrator in and out of her tight pussy while Lana started to shake all over, tiny, half-ashamed moans as her eyes rolled up.

“You’re beautiful, brilliant, and precious,” he sighed, fucking her faster with the toy, then surprising her again by withdrawing it to use the tip to tease her clit, and all she could think as the hot white stabs of pleasure started to build was how much she wanted it to be his hands, his tongue there...god, his cock, yes…

“Yes,” she fumbled, back arching as the tension built in wave upon wave, impossible to contain, “Lex, God! Yes!” 

“That’s it, baby girl,” he said, lost in some rapturous haze she couldn’t comprehend, “There you go. I’ve got you. It’s okay to let go.”

Lana’s vision of his gorgeously attentive face above her blurred slightly as the circular pattern of the vibration against her sensitive little bundle of nerves made her come with a ragged moan, water splashing him haphazardly as she thrashed, unable to find a place to put the pleasure that could make it more bearable.

But as she was coming back down, he reached into the water and lifted her out, taking her up into his embrace like she was lighter than air when she knew she wasn’t; she was heavy and wet, tingling in the afterglow of orgasm, and...oh God, naked, _so_ naked.

Like Eve in the Garden of Eden she had somehow become almost entirely oblivious to her own nudity, and now the realization of it hit her like a slap in the face. She brought her arms up around his neck and burrowed into him, self-conscious at the thought of him seeing all of her at once, so unexpectedly, and he hummed with contentment, impervious to the water dribbling from her skin and sticking her to his body, soaking his shirt.

“I’m going to take care of you now, all afternoon, Lana. Would you like that? You still have some time before Physics class, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered, cold by now and clinging to his body heat for safety as much as relief from her shivers. His adoration calmed her worries every time, a skill that seemed as natural to him as breathing, but it was far from his only skill and she wanted to know them all, know him inside out. He grabbed a towel and carried her to her room, laying her down on the bed without a care for the way the duvet was dampened. 

“Come up on your knees for me,” he asked softly, then he dried her off, rubbing her hair down as they both laughed, then toweling off her shoulders, arms, her stomach...up to her breasts, where he was so careful, just barely touching the terry to her skin. 

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, Lex, I’m not going to break,” she assured him fondly, pleased when this assurance had the effect she had intended.

With a helpless growl, he tossed the towel aside and lowered his mouth to catch one of her nipples, licking and sucking as she grabbed at his shoulders, pulling at his wine-colored button-down shirt. She got the shirt loose from his trousers and ran her hand up his bare back as he continued his attentions to her breasts, rolling his tongue over the hardened nubs in teasing circles. His mouth was divine, his ministrations sending tremors of delight right to her still-throbbing center, and everything he did just made her need more of him.

“Lex, Lex,” she urged, giggling when he kissed his way down to her belly, where she was ticklish. “Can I touch _you_ now?”

How many nights had he lost sleep picturing how she would look undressing him, how she would blush and bite her lip at the first sight of his body, bared and offered up to her, hers completely for the taking? His heart was hers; she could crush it right now in her delicate hand, the same one shyly trailing down his chest to rest flat against his belly, and he would let her. What choice would he have? Even the pain of that would be an exquisite sacrament, an honor. He wasn’t used to inviting in peril to his own continued peace, but there was no turning back now, there hadn’t been since Christmas, when he finally confronted his feelings for her.

This wasn’t a game anymore, and the blush deepened on her cheeks as she realized it. They were naked in bed, no more pretense of light-hearted frolics, no tub of bubbly water to hide her desire; she was sopping with it so that her scent became even headier, sweeter than ever, cherry blossoms and honey. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Lana,” he begged as she examined his physique. He injected a tease into his tone as best he could considering the tension he truly felt. 

Her lovely, dark eyes flitted up and down his firmly muscled body, taking in the ragged movements in his chest along the way, and then she smiled at him, so aroused but so warmly affectionate that his helpless heart gave a painful squeeze. 

“You look amazing,” she grinned, “Even more so than I expected.”

“Have you thought about it often?” he asked, trembling as she kissed a line across his stomach, then traveled lower, kneeling between his legs. 

“Mmmhmm,” she smirked, unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the floor before tugging his trousers away. “More and more lately.” She kissed his bulging erection through his boxer briefs and Lex’s hips bucked as his breath caught. “I used to try _not_ to think about it. But now…” She slid his underwear off, shooting him another one of those girlishly mischievous grins, and his fingers flew to her hair, tangling in the silken locks, seeking comfort from the stormy arousal that had him so on edge.

“Lana, you don’t know what you do to me,” he said haltingly, almost as a warning. 

People shouldn’t get too close to him, and this was no fling, no shallow rebound hook-up. This was for real, this was built-up chemistry and smothered desire and _years_ in the making. This love could haunt his soul forever, but that was okay. He’d woken up knowing this full well after his Christmas dream. But if he was honest with himself, he had to admit he knew that getting wrapped up in him might destroy her life. Everything he touched seemed to wither or burn, no matter how he tried to manipulate every variable to his advantage, to prevent a repeat of the type of misery with which his childhood had been overflowing. At best, this relationship would upend Lana’s life, but he was still far too selfish to turn back, to tell her to stop before they fell any further down this tempting rabbit hole to what might be a very treacherous wonderland.

“I know what I’m going to do to _you_,” she flirted seamlessly, though a shimmer of delighted surprise went through her as she took his cock in hand and lowered her mouth to taste him. He was thick on her tongue, hot and urgently needy, fighting his every raging urge to yank her hair, then pound into her throat just to see how she looked with her adorable, luscious mouth thoroughly wrecked. 

Instead, he lay there petting through her hair, panting and watching her head beginning to bob as she licked and suckled him, then nearly swallowed him down as she sank her gorgeously wet, hot mouth over his rigid length. “Mmm,” she hummed, clearly savoring this, as if he was her new favorite flavor and she couldn’t get enough. Her greediness and the sleek perfection of her mouth, of that naughty, smart tongue, threatened to make him come before he was anywhere near ready for this to be over.

“Wait,” he murmured, forcing the word out with difficulty, “I need more of you.”

“How much?” Lana asked, licking her lips as he turned her onto her back and gathered a generous handful of her glossy, dark tresses into his hand. 

“Everything,” Lex demanded, tugging her hair as she gave a fragile yelp, but ground her lower body against him to encourage him to go on. He crawled down the bed to kiss and bite at her thighs, smiling when she placed one leg over his back and pressed her toes into his skin, a pleasantly welcome pressure and so damn cute. 

She tasted, impossibly, as good as she looked, all warm, generous nectar, honey-sweet on his roving, broadly soft tongue.

“_Lex,_ oh, God,” she whimpered, shivering as he lapped adoringly at her labia, then probed his tongue within, growing even harder at the feel of her inside. He couldn’t seem to slow down once he got that first taste, and her hand clutched harder at his shoulder; her ankle bearing possessively into his back, until he was dizzy with her scent, her taste, the knowledge that she couldn’t seem to get him close enough, and he completely understood the sentiment -- then he licked at her clit with expertly targeted attention and she shattered on a high-pitched squeal.

She lay nearly still then, except for the heavy breathing and the unstoppable quivers racking her lithe, supple figure. 

“If I keep going, will it be too much?” he murmured hotly against her ear before licking it, and she shuddered, clutching at him with shaky hands.

“Yes,” she admitted, nodding ardently, but nonetheless drawing his body between her thighs and reaching for his aching cock, pressing it to her densely fragrant, soaking wet entrance. “So please keep going.”

There was a very hurried discussion about protection which did necessitate him to admit he’d been pretty damn presumptuous all along, given the box of condoms secreted in hidden compartment of the bedside table drawer, but she had discovered them days ago, and practically dove for the package as they laughed over their mutual impatience.

He entered her with ease, sliding his thick cock into her silken walls as she clung to him, meeting his increasingly sloppy, wet kisses with equivocal passion, tasting herself on his lips until that was all kissed away and it was just Lex again, superbly insatiable. They swallowed each other’s moans as had become their delectable habit and addiction, and then they were moving together in a synchronicity that surprised him, rolling and changing position without a word. She rode him for a while in long, fluid strokes with her head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open in bliss, and then he had her on hands and knees before him, looking back at him through a mess of rumpled brunette hair. 

“Yes,” she moaned, rocking her hips back in time with his thrusts as he finally let go of his carefully meted-out restraint and fucked her _almost_ as hard and deep as he pleased. 

Lex knew that if he completely gave into his hedonistic obsession with Lana, he might be too rough, might even scare her. A big part of him was still holding back secret sides of himself, locking them away in little boxes for safe-keeping: his clandestine medical and scientific projects, his ongoing fixation on solving the mystery of Clark Kent, the full extent of damage left from his young life and how unbalanced he might actually be as a result. And of course, the fact that he wanted nothing more than to dominate Lana Lang with brutal force, have her tied and helpless beneath him, have his hand tight at her throat, spank her on a daily basis in praise and euphoric discipline, have her beg him to control her life, make her plans, lavish her with gifts, fuck her until she was weak, lost in subspace and ready for his most attentive aftercare. 

He felt the pleasure within him ratcheting to climax as the effortless glide of his thick shaft within her tight, pulsing sex sent her into a third orgasm, and when her body clamped down on him, when she gave a shallow scream that showed him she was nearly spent, all the ecstasy wrung from her beautiful body just as she deserved, he burst within her, giving a feral shout, his hands gripping and digging into her hips with a possessive ardor he could not resist.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said breathlessly when he held her afterwards and she laid her head on his chest, listening to his raging heartbeat.

If Lex believed there was actually a God up there who had anything in mind but swiftly decimating this fragile start to happiness in his life, he might have offered a prayer that Lana wouldn’t sense any of his secrets, as she listened so intently to the thundering of his heart. Right now, she saw him as a good man, sturdy and reliable, but he was morally dubious on his best day, and this _was_ one of his better days. What was he, passably decent at best? Ambitiously striving for even a facade of normal he could use to win her over? Lex had promised himself he was going to become the man he had glimpsed in his dream, the one his mother assured him he could be, someone who deserved Lana Lang, but he didn’t know how to get there from here. He didn’t know how to open up to her any more without driving her away, because how could he blame her if she saw all of him and responded with revulsion? It was the natural reaction, right? His upbringing had ingrained the truth of this into his mind with ruthless vigor.

“I hope it’s the first of many times we do that,” he smiled, kissing her forehead and ruffling her hair. 

“Mmm, me, too,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his chest as if the bruised and baffled organ whose incessant thudding had her so enamored was anything other than a future burden. He loved her for that, for seeing the best in him, but then, he loved everything about his enchanting girlfriend. 

…_Girlfriend_? Well, she was, right? They were living together, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for five minutes, and the only impediment to the title was the fact that they had yet to announce to anyone else that they were a couple. 

That needed to change. Sure, he kind of thought about Lana’s friends as though they were wolves circling the gates of his joy, ready to lunge for his throat and rip him away from Lana for her own protection, but what power did they really have to wrest the two of them apart? If Lana was falling for him, she would be loyal; it was one of her most distinct character traits, after all, something he admired _and_ could see the advantage of playing into, exploiting just a little. Clark and Chloe and Lois would make their attempts to dissuade Lana from this love, but he knew how to mould this dynamic so that their pointless bleating would only push him and Lana even closer together.

There came a little twinge of guilt then, a whisper in his brain that this was an uncharitable way to be thinking of his former best friend Clark after the guy had just lost his father, and that practically stealing Lana out from under Clark was particularly unkind. But Clark had the privilege of growing up Jonathan Kent’s son, and even if the newly-minted senator was gone now, Clark would always have all those years of happy memories, plus the foundation of morality and dignity to which Lex could only confusedly aspire. Clark had had _years_ worth of Lana Lang loving him, and had blown every chance he had to give her the love she deserved in return. Selfishly, Clark had been far more concerned with protecting his own secret, which had ruined their own friendship as well (although Clark would doubtless tell the story differently, he mused with a bitter half-smile). 

Lex kept things from Lana, too, but he considered his type of withholding as a way to protect them both from his darker side until he could completely defeat it. Clark’s motivations couldn’t possibly have been as sterling, or he just wouldn’t have fucked it up that many times. 

Plus, unlike Lex, Clark was simply a terrible liar. Clark didn’t know anything about using lies in their proper place and letting them fall away at the right moment. Meanwhile, Lex knew almost nothing of how to be good, and everything about being bad, well-placed deception included.

Yes, he still cared about Clark, but no, he wasn’t going to let that consideration keep him from enjoying Lana, or showing her off and letting everyone else know she was now _his_. She was the light of his life, his hope for the future, and of course he was proud, of course he wanted her on his arm for the world to see, needed her there to remind himself it was where she belonged.

He felt a boost of pride in himself and a dash of hope returning to his spirits as she leaned over him, caressing his face and looking into his eyes as if he had hung the moon. He was going to be that guy for her, her hero, her future husband, the father of her children, the one to hold her and pour out his devotion to her every day and night for as long as they both should live. He would figure out how to get there if it killed him. 

However, for the sake of not scaring the hell out her her with his uncanny precognition, he merely ran his knuckles over her silky-soft cheek, then traced her swollen, over-kissed, smiling lips and said, “I guess you’d better get ready, if you’re going to make it to class.”


End file.
